Basketcase
by Nara Ganmi
Summary: No matter how brilliant one may be, there will always be someone who exploits these potententials, sometimes ruining the intelligent one's life. rated for language


**Basketcase**

**A/N: hey, guys. This is just a little something (lol, little. Yeah right.) I finally got around to writing when my internet was down (stupid computer… It's still not working!) although I've been planning it and a few others for a while now. Just to get this out of the way; this takes place in about 2015, when the boys are 24 or 25, something like that. And there'll be a few things you won't be told that you should know after you've read the main portion, so those are on the bottom. Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK OR GREEN DAY**

**And it was only partially inspired by the first Mr. Hankey episode, mostly Basketcase by Green Day.**

hite walls, white floor, fluorescent lighting-Kyle had no doubts as to where he was despite the throbbing beat in his mind. The blindingly colorless padding surrounding him could have given it away to Officer Barbrady, and the coordinating constricting attire could have explained it to a toddler. Well, a South Park toddler at least.

He was at a hospital. A mental hospital, to be exact. Not like that was any different from where he was yesterday.

Kyle stayed perfectly still on the spongy ground and evaluated his environment as best he could between painful twinges. He could barely make out the outline of a tall, thin door looming tauntingly to his right, no handle in sight. Despite his attempts to keep his breathing steady, he sighed. They were finally getting smarter.

Figuring there would be no harm since they already knew he was awake, Kyle shifted and sat up, years of practice in the matter of "occupied" hands proving useful. He tilted his head side to side then rolled it, discreetly locating the observation cameras. Kyle frowned to himself. They had certainly gotten smarter; there were now four cameras, three motion detectors, and a one-way mirror. Not that any of that proved a problem.

Kyle let his head hang loose and closed his eyes, all the while smirking to himself as a strategy began to form in his head. He was a fast learner, and these people tended to overlook IQ in a place like this, despite its importance; he had already used his a total of one hundred twenty-three times, coming up on a one hundred twenty-fourth, once he figured out how to take care of the door…

It had become a sort of game for him; how many times can I escape before they finally decide that it's useless and try something _effective? _It's not like there was anything better to do… He was in the "incurable" section anyway, so why not have fun the rest of his life?

This cat and mouse game was getting stale, however, for both the cat and the mouse, and it was apparent that he should have made his final escape many times ago, judging by the newest enhancements to the room.

Maybe Kyle would leave next time. Someone like him could only be entertained by such simple getaways for so long, after all.

Kyle wasn't insane, or stupid for that matter, although they treated him as if he were both. Far from it-he was a perfectly sane genius, and he was known that way. Well, he was, now everyone thought he was a nutcase, despite the evidence otherwise. He could prove he was sane, just give him a test.

It seemed tests were beyond these people as well.

Kyle let his head tilt back and let out another sigh, recalling the events that led to his current predicament, rather, the event. It was all _his_ fault. Without him, this never would've happened. But of course, without him, near nothing would have happened. It's a bitter-sweet fact, his existence, as it was Kyle's. If Kyle could change one thing about this world, he wouldn't change a thing. Not even the fact that Cartman was a fat, grubby, antisemetic.

Yes, it was all Cartman's fault. Who else's would it be? Certainly not Stan's, or Kenny's, or god forbid Ike's. Kyle felt a scowl form on his face. That stupid fatass… No matter how much Kyle hated him, he had to admit that Cartman was what made his life interesting. Without that annoying, fat, Hitler-incarnate Kyle would've died of boredom years ago. But then again, without him, Kyle wouldn't have been locked up in here years ago.

A crackle, followed by a few seconds of static interrupted Kyle's thoughts. He lazily opened his eyes and turned his eyes towards the mirror-like surface, barely able to make out the outline of a man standing at a small microphone.

"Uh," A deep, nasal tone filled the room. "I see you're awake now." Kyle narrowed his eyes at the silhouette he could just barely make out.

"No shit." He spat in reply, and he could see the familiar form twitch in recoil.

"Well, uh," the voice continued, "Mr. Broflovski-"

"Now now," Kyle cut him off acidly, "There's no reason for formalities. You know my name, it's not that hard," Kyle growled, "_Craig. _"

The man actually recoiled this time, lifting his finger from the button controlling the intercom with a sharp _click_ that caused Kyle to cringe. It was a second before the man pushed the button again, once again causing the irritating crackle and static to pierce Kyle's ears.

"Fine," Craig sighed in defeat, "well, er, _Kyle_, do you have any idea why we had to update your room?"

Kyle felt a smirk tug at his lips, which he gladly released. "Well," He said in a mock-thoughtful tone, "maybe it's the fact that I've escaped the old one one hundred twenty three times?"

"….Yes." Craig admitted, "The others wouldn't want me saying that. Their reason is that you have been disobeying."

This time it was Kyle's turn to sigh. "It's not like I have anything better to do." He muttered, just loud enough for Craig to pick up.

"You know," Craig began, "If you just do as you're told, I just might be able to get you out on account of mental healing."

Kyle laughed darkly. "You make it sound like I'm insane."

"You _are_," Craig emphasized, "If you just let us help-"

"I'm not insane!" Kyle shrieked, as if it would convince Craig, "I got permission for those experiments! It was requested by the president! I didn't even come up with them!"

"Our president would _never_ request such heinous crimes." Craig's tone had turned icy. "He is a good leader. He cares about all living creatures."

Kyle laughed maniacally. "_Cares?! _ The only thing that _bastard_ cares about is himself!"

"Don't you dare insult our leader!" Craig yelled, his voice slightly warped through the speaker.

"Listen to yourself Craig!" Kyle cried, "You're defending _Cartman! _Fatass! Racist! Communist! You _know_ him! You _know_ better than to think he actually _cares! _"

Craig lifted his finger from the button once more, but deliberately this time and Kyle yelped in pain, wrenching his arms upward to cover his ears, only to have them stopped painfully by the straightjacket. Craig seemed to pace back and forth angrily as Kyle breathed heavily.

It was another minute before Craig ceased pacing and pressed his finger to the button once more.

"People change." He stated simply.

Kyle looked up at Craig's faint figure, mouth slightly agape. There was a lapse in their "conversation," filled only by Kyle's breathing. When one finally broke the silence, it was Kyle, with a whispered "Why are you here?" and despite not being able to see it, Kyle knew Craig was grinning.

"Why Kyle," He said snidely, "You have a visitor."

Kyle heard the latch on the door click open, and it registered that this may be his only chance to escape for good. He was done with this game. But before Kyle could collect himself enough to make a break for it, he was stopped by the appearance of a large figure squeezing its way through the door. Kyle couldn't stop himself from snarling.

The corpulent man bent over Kyle's frail, underfed frame. "Hello, Kahl."

Kyle felt rage well up through him at the appearance of the man he hated most. The growled word bubbled past his lips before he could stop it. "Cartman."

Cartman's only response was a taunting grin.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?" The animalistic rage was evident in Kyle's voice, although the grinning male above him seemed not to notice.

"Oh," Cartman began, "Just dropped in to say hi to mah _favorite_ Jew." Cartman used his pointer finger to trace the bottom of Kyle's chin, who responded with an attempt at biting said finger. "Ooh, feisty."

"Like hell you did." Kyle lurched forward, arms longing for freedom and to throttle the ball of fat in front of him. "What are you _really_ here for?"

"Cutting to the chase, are we?" Cartman raised an eyebrow. "That's why you'll always be my favorite little biologist."

Kyle allowed his mouth to drop open in disbelief. "Oh no," he gasped, "There's no way that I'm going to work for you again!"

Cartman's cheshire grin faltered. "Oh?" his tone was no longer as amused as it was irritated. "And why not?"

"Why _should_ I?" Kyle gaped, "Last time I worked for you, you turned me into the laughing stock of the world! I'm a wacko!" Kyle hung his head. "Nobody respects me anymore…"

"And that's why you should." Cartman stated diplomatically, causing Kyle to look up, thoroughly confused. "You see Kahl," Cartman bent over the boney red-head, looking thoughtful. "I'm just gonna go straight to the point here; I can get you out. I can get you back your dignity, your lab, your prestige, all this," Cartman motioned to their surroundings, "would go away. All you have to do, my friend, is a few experiments."

Kyle scowled at the male looming over him. He _had_ to be kidding. "I'll sooner eat my own hand." He spat, invoking a frown from Cartman.

"Are you sure, Kahl?" His voice was tentative, and seemingly reluctant at Kyle's decision.

"I'm sure." Kyle confirmed, face set in a glare that even his mother wouldn't mess with.

The blow came fast and hard, straight to Kyle's cheek, knocking him over onto the soft floor with a thud. Dirty crimson curls spilled onto the padding from under a green hat, mimicking the equally red drops that now spilled from Kyle's lips. He coughed once, head spinning as he observed Cartman's piggish form hobble to the door.

"My offer will still stand tomorrow," He said without turning around, "If your answer remains the same, then I will have to force you into helping me." And with that he left.

Kyle remained there in his place on the foam, mouth slightly open and panting, even as the blue-white lights above him flickered off suddenly, enveloping him in complete darkness. He muttered the few choice curse words that were able to surface through his muddled thoughts, before making his final decision.

Next time, he left for good.

---

So what happened WAS, is that before Cartman was president, he enlisted Kyle to do some really horrible experiments, like, on kids and stuff. Kyle had no choice, cuz Cartman was threatening his life (go figure). So in a really f***ed up election after some sort of catastrophe, Cartman is made president, officially seizing—er, earning—power on December 21, 2012. Date sound familiar? Anyway, for fear that Kyle was going to reveal what Cartman enlisted him for, Cartman exposes Kyle as if it was all Kyle's idea and he had nothing to do with it, ruining Kyle's status as an amazing bio-scientist and dubbing him a nut job. He was thereby placed in the "incurable section," where we pick up with him three years later later.  
See? Not too complicated.


End file.
